


Please, Don't Go

by SomePacificWind02



Series: Sketches of Spierfeld [3]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Canon - Movie, Drunk Bram, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Foreplay (sort of), Mentions of homophobia, Multi, POV First Person, Partying, Post-Canon, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomePacificWind02/pseuds/SomePacificWind02
Summary: I hop into my car and pull out of the driveway. It’s a dark night. The sky above is overcast and dreary. Cold air bites at the nape of my neck, begging for me to turn on the heat. As I make my way towards the Metternich Estate, a nervous feeling creeps up my spine. An anxious, anticipatory feeling. Like the kind someone feels right before something is about to happen.OrAfter a long night of board games with his friends, Simon get's a call from Bram. Being the wonderful boyfriend he is, he races to his aid.





	Please, Don't Go

“Simon Spier, I am going to kill you!” Abby spins the wheel on the board. It spins around and around until it stops on 3. “Okay, so,” she purses her lips, “this game is rigged. Simon, did you rig this game?”

I giggle.

“Baby it’s okay,” Nick wraps her in his arms, “The _Game of Life_ is a lame game anyway.”

“Excuse me Nick Eisner, but the _Game of Life_ is so _not_ lame.” Leah counters.

“Is too.”

“Is not.” She fishes out a chip from a bowl of trail mix and bites into it with finality.

“Yeah, well, guess what? I just got married! Suck it!” Abby reaches down and places a small figurine into the car. We’d been playing _The Game of Life_ for the past four hours, and every time I’ve won. It’s game number nine. Far ahead on the board, Leah and I’s pieces were neck and neck, just spaces away from retirement. I bite my lip in determination. There is no way I’m going to break my victory streak to her. Not today.

“It’s too bad your man couldn’t make it.” Abby pouted.

“I know! Taylor Metternich is apparently hosting a birthday party and Garrett dragged him along to help pick her up.”

Abby’s mouth twists, “Huh, I didn’t know Garrett was into Metternich. She’s such a buzzkill.”

“Yeah, well, I personally think Garrett is totally chicken and has poor taste in women,” Leah says matter-of-factly.

“Oh? Does Leah have a thing for guys with poor taste in women?” Nick asks slyly.

She blushes and looks down at the floor.

“Oh my god. You have a crush on Garrett!”

Leah buries her face in my shoulder, groaning in protest.

“No, guys, she obviously has a thing for closeted gay men,” I grin.

Nick and Abby laugh hysterically. She takes a pillow off the couch and bashes me with it. “Spier!”

Hearty laughter echoes all throughout the house. For the first time in a while, it was just like old times. Just the four of us against the world. Not that having Bram around was bad, but it was nice to have that old dynamic once and a while.

“Hey! Hey! I’m sorry!” I apologize in between giggles.

Suddenly my phone my back pocket begins to vibrate. As I take it out and read the caller ID, my heart skips a beat.

It’s Bram.

“Hang on guys,” I say, excusing myself. Pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table, I sit down and raise the phone to my ear.

“Siiiiimon,” Bram says, the party booming in the background.

“Hey, Babe! What’s happening?”

“Nothing much.” He slurs into the phone.

“Bram, how drunk are you?”

“Just a teensy bit. Hey, did you know that you are the cutest person ever?”

I chuckle. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh...okay,” Bram sounds genuinely disappointed, “Hey! Did you know that ‘Sexy Minion Girl’ is here?”

“Really?”

“Really! Although, I’m not gonna make out with her because I’m gay. Duh.”

“Wow, babe, that’s really surprising!” I exclaim sarcastically.

“Hehe. Sooooo I was calling because Garrett gave me a ride here, but now he’s wasted and I need a ride home.”

“Of course I can do that for you, babe. Let me just let the others know, and I’ll be there shortly.”

“I love you! You’re the best.” Bram says.   
“I love you more. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up, and I sigh. “Guys,” I return to the family room, “Bram’s stranded on party island and needs a ride home.”

“Drunk?” Nick quirks his eyebrows.

I nod.

“Opmh! I told you he’d party hard,” Abby claps at each word, “Go save your man. We’ll clean up and vacate.”

I quickly hug Abby and Nick, give Leah a kiss on the head, then run upstairs. Without thinking, I grab a blue hoodie and my keys. Abby is fixing the pillows on the couch when I get back down. The telltale drip of the kitchen sink indicates Nick or Leah washed the bowl of Chex Mix. They’re all chattering about college majors, unaware that I was watching them fondly from the bottom of the stairs.

I can’t help but smile.

“I swear to god,” I hear Nick say as I close the door, “Simon’s gonna marry that man someday.”

I blush. I definitely would not be opposed to marrying Bram. Simon Greenfeld has a nice ring to it. Or maybe Greenfeld-Spier. Last names would be a discussion for later.

Hopefully sooner, rather than later.

I hop into my car and pull out of the driveway. It’s a dark night. The sky above is overcast and dreary. Cold air bites at the nape of my neck, begging for me to turn on the heat. As I make my way towards the Metternich Estate, a nervous feeling creeps up my spine. An anxious, anticipatory feeling. The kind someone feels right before something is about to happen.

Thankfully, Taylor’s house is only a few blocks away from mine. On her front porch, teenagers are scattered about. A couple is making out in a bush. Pulsing light emanates from the front entrance. I feel an earth-shaking bass blasting from inside, and when I step out of the car, I hear the distinct rasp of Nicki Minaj.

Taylor has poor taste in music.

I thrust my hands into my front pockets and walk into the house. I immediately recoil at the overwhelming stench of weed and alcohol. The room is wall-to-wall with people. As I survey the onslaught in the room, I spot Garrett sucking the lips off of some girl with red hair.

“Garret!” I yell over the music.

He doesn’t seem to hear me.

“Garret!” I repeat.

He turns his head and flashes me a lopsided grin. “Here to find your boyfriend, Spier?”

“Yeah! Do you know where Bram is?”

He gestures over to a sliding glass door that leads to the backyard.

“Thanks,” I say, but I’m drowned out by Sir Mix-a-lot’s love for buns, hun. As I maneuver my way through the crowd, a boy bumps into me. He spills his drink all over my jacket. For a minute, he looks mortified. Then, he breaks out into a drunken grin and dances away. I roll my eyes as I make it to the door.

The outside is much more pleasant. Fairy lights are stringed all about. A group of people to my right are sitting in a circle cross-legged. One of them is hollering incoherently, a blunt in his hand. Another one is strumming lazily at a guitar. Bram is nowhere to be seen. _Where is he?_ I think to myself when he materializes right next to me.

“Hey, babe!” He wraps his arms around me, and my heart melts right there.

“Hello, amazing,” I rest my hands on his waist and plant a kiss on his lips. They taste sweet, like scotch. “Are you ready head home?”

“Yeah,” He nods fervently.

I lace my fingers through his hands and pull him gently through the crowd. The last strains of John Legend’s _All of Me_ is playing. Several couples are swaying about. The room has seemingly calmed down just for us to make our way through. I have to resist the urge to stop and dance with Bram. As we step out of the entrance, a new song starts, and the party swings back into motion. We cross the street and get in my car.

“Thank you so much, Simon,” he says, “Really.”

“I’m just glad you called me. I’d rather not you become a statistic.” I say.

Bram laughs.

“So, where, too love? Are we heading back to my place or yours?” I ask.

“My place. Mom is coming home for a business trip tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” I pull out from between two cars and start for Bram’s house. “Hey, we missed you tonight.”

“Had I been given much choice, I’d have taken board games over _that_ party any day.”

I let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to leave a house. Did Garrett end up hooking up with Taylor?”

“No, I don’t think so. Last I checked he was playing beer pong with Aaron.”

“Huh, I guess must have found a consolation prize then.”

His eyebrows crawl up his forehead, and I just shake my head.

The drive to his house is long, much longer than it takes to get to Creekwood High. He lives in a cul-de-sac atop a hill on the outskirts of Shady Creek. Gorgeous houses line the street. Mom always compliments them when we pass by. I distinctly remember her ogling over the brown one with a lavish fence enclosing it freshman year. “Simon, I’m so jealous of whichever family moves in. They must be so lucky to be able to afford such a gem!” She exclaimed when she saw the “For Sale” sign.

Turns out, that house became Bram’s.

I’ve never been into his house before. You’d think after dating for more than three months I’d have been there by now. But his mom is always working, and she prefer's not having us alone in her house. It’ll be interesting to see the inside for the first time.

We park in front of his mailbox. Getting out of the car, I rush to the other side to help Bram out.

“How blurry is everything right now? Do you think you can walk normally?”

“Relax babe, I’m just a little tipsy right now.” He takes a step and almost trips.

He’s not convincing, but god, he’s a very cute drunk. I steady him by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. We take small steps up his driveway. When we reach the fence gate, an angry hissing catches my attention. Hidden in the bushes, a pair of squash yellow eyes glare at us.

“Oh, there's Shelby.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

He pulls the gate open, “Nah. Shelby’s my neighbor's cat. She’s about as friendly as Spencer.”

Bram’s garage is a mess. A black Subaru is parked in the middle of a maelstrom of boxes, boxes, and more boxes. I mean. It’s just a disaster. I gently push aside a box labeled “Baby toys” with my foot. A singular light flickers above us. It's covered in cobwebs, and somewhat pathetic. This room chaotic, stingy, and about as opposite of Bram as it gets.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” he apologizes as we step into the kitchen.

“Have you seen my room?” I joke, “Today I couldn’t see my floor.”

He laughs, and I have to feel a bit proud of myself. It’s not often someone finds humor in my messy room.

“Down the hallway and to the right.” He points. As we walk towards his room, I stop to look at the wall. It’s full of pictures of Bram. Baby Bram, that is. I stare at one in particular. Bram's hands are caked in dirt, and he’s smiling up at the camera with glee. He still had those beautiful eyes back then.

“Aww, babe, you were so cute back then!”

He glances over my shoulder and blushes, “Mom makes it a priority to tell guests the stories behind each picture if she has the time for it.”

“Can you tell me about this one?” I point to the one with him in a jumper.

He winces, “That one’s best told by my mom.”

I make a note to myself to interrogate Ms. Greenfeld about that picture next time I see her.

Bram turns the knob on his door and slides out from under me. He fumbles around for the light switch. I reach over to help guide his hand; his skin is warm to the touch. The lights come on, and I take in the scene.

His room is just...so...Bram. A signed Tron _Legacy_ poster hangs over his bed. The sheets are blue, obviously, and the pillows are neatly arranged. Fuzzy carpet is spread out beneath my feet. His laptop is open on a black desk; a singular textbook is opened next to it. My eyes find a strange blue envelope crumpled up in a waste bin. I bite back my curiosity.

Something tells me I shouldn’t ask about it.

Bram kicks off his shoes and collapses on his bed. He exhales loudly, pressing his hands over his eyes.

“What’s up?” I sit down next to him.

“I don’t know,” Bram rests his head on my calves, and I run my fingers through his hair. Soft curls flicker through my fingers, like candlelight. A small smile creeps up on his lips.

“I really want to kiss you,” I say.

“So why don’t you?” He raises his head, our noses barely inches apart. I shudder at the feeling of his breath against my skin. Bram leans into me, and our lips immediately find each other. The kiss is slow and deep. It’s almost as though I can feel the electricity crackling in the air. My arms slide up under his shirt, and he pulls away to slip it off. I do the same. He wraps his arms around me. A shiver runs down my spine as I roll over on my back. Now he’s straddling me, pressing up against my erection. Fingers interlocked, breaths heavy, is it supposed to feel this good?

“God, you’re so hot.” Bram moans.

Our kisses grow more desperate; I don’t think I’ve felt a need more for him than now. To kiss him. To touch him.

Maybe even to fuck him...

As if he knew what I was thinking, he slides his hand towards my fly. A nervous energy takes over me, snapping me back to reality.

I stop his hand gently, “Maybe not tonight, Babe?”

Panic spreads across his face. “Oh, am I doing something wrong?”

“God no!” I laugh, “It’s just, you’re kind of drunk right now. And I’d rather engage in sexual activity when you’re able to give proper consent and a healthy conversation beforehand, you know?”

He flops down next to me, eyes wide. “Okay,” he pauses, “But I wasn’t bad?”

“I could do that all. Night. Long.”

Bram kisses my cheek and curls up next to me. We’re silent for a while; I can only hear his soft breath and my bloodstream roaring in my ears.

My eyes catch on the blue envelope again. And there’s that stirring curiosity again.

“Bram, what is that envelope?”

“Oh. It’s nothing.” I look down at him. Bram’s not meeting my eyes.

“Abraham...” I know I shouldn't feel entitled to know everything, but something made me press for more.

He lets out a long sigh. “It’s a letter from Emory.”

My heart skips a beat, “Did you get in?”

Bram lets out another, long, disappointed sigh, “Yes Simon, I did get in. But the tuition is too expensive.”

“What about financial aid?”

“Mom makes _just_ enough money to not qualify, which sucks because we can barely pay our bills right now.”

My heart sinks. “Bram-”

“It’s fine,” he cuts me off, “Really it is. It’s not things haven’t been hard enough. First of all, my stepmom hasn’t been taking this whole ‘Coming out’ thing well. You know I heard her say to my dad, ‘I really hope Caleb doesn’t catch what he has’ the other night? You know how shitty that is? On top of that, most of the colleges I’ve applied to waitlisted me. Which is synonymous with rejection, in my family's book. And the rest we can’t afford. We’re barely paying our bills,” His voice grows louder, and I’m bracing myself against his bed.

“And that’s not the worst of it,” he sits up, “The worst part is that I feel useless. Everything I seem to do just isn’t enough. Did you know a guy came to the last game to give a scholarship? Yeah, he gave it to Jonathan Regan. Jonathan _fucking_ Regan! That kid never shows up to practices! I give work my ass off for that team, and he gives it to the no-show! This is how it’s been my whole _fucking_ life,” He’s quaking with anger, “I keep losing and losing! And now I’m scared to death that I’m gonna lose you next because you’ll see me for the loser I am!”

Bram breaks down sobbing. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the lack of anonymity, but I’ve never seen Bram this vulnerable or sad before. Tears well up in my eyes. I understand how he feels more than ever.

“Hey,” I whisper as I pull him into me, “Shhhh. It’s okay.”

Now he’s crying even harder. I can physically see the sheer devastation wrack through his body. Like sad ocean waves beating against a cliffside.

“Abraham Louis Greenfeld is not a failure,” I say, “He is the bravest person I know. You are funny, kind, and so strong. God, you are so strong. It’s okay to feel insecure like this, but I promise you that you are so wrong.”

“Nothing I do is enough,” Bram gasps in between sobs.

I cup his face in my hands and force him to look me in the eyes. “No. You are more than enough. My Blue is not going to be defined by these things. I won’t let him, okay?”

He gives me a melancholy smile. “Okay.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

“Are you...crying?”

“No, I’m not, shut up.” And the floodgates open. Thick, hot tears roll down my cheeks. For what feels like hours, we cry into each other’s shoulders.

“Do you need anything right now before I go?” I finally ask, brushing his cheeks with my thumbs.

“Please, don’t go. Stay with me.”

And I do.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed another story in "Sketches of Spierfeld". I particularly enjoyed writing this one because it touches on a more emotional, intimate place in their relationship. I apologize if the smutty part wasn't on par (still working on that). For me, I wasn't a 1000% sure if they mentioned Bram's stepmother's pregnancy in the movie, so I just threw it in there any way to flesh out the story. This is my first time posting something in the first person POV, so let me know if you liked it! As always, prompts and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Thank you so much! :)


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